


Aftermath

by Pillsofpink



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Justice League - All Media Types, Teen Titans - All Media Types
Genre: (I hope. this is off the cuff tbh), Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-Apokolips War, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-11
Updated: 2020-06-30
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:55:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 17,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23588767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pillsofpink/pseuds/Pillsofpink
Summary: In the aftermath of defeating Darkseid, Raven and Damian attempt to put their lives back together. Separated by their grief, with nearly everything they once knew just a painful memory, the healing process is a difficult and non-linear path.Tags to be updated.
Relationships: Raven & Damian Wayne, Raven/Damian Wayne
Comments: 24
Kudos: 117





	1. Chapter 1: Prologue

_ 3 days _

So what happens now?

Eyes stare unfocused and unseeing out from the only home she has ever known. It feels foreign as cold air sweeps through the broken windows, the destroyed walls reminding her of all that has been lost. There were so many happy moments in this room, Raven knows that, but she can’t recall one. Or maybe she won't, not ready to face the bitter fact that those moments have all come to pass. Her friends. Her family. Just like those moments, are gone.

It hurts to remember. It's so much easier to forget. To try to forget. 

But she can't forget. Not with everything so fresh in her mind. Her feelings so raw. 

The war is won. They won. Yet so much has been lost.

Dick, Donna, Jaime, Gar, Wally. The people who gave this tower life, gave her a home, gave her a family. Somewhere to belong. Everything is over and now the losses are final, like before this moment she could have woken up and everything would be okay. 

But it was a nightmare and there was no waking up. 

Her father was gone, yet somehow Raven knew that the nightmares were just beginning. It was a clever idea to use Trigon against Darkseid. Two birds with one stone. They had waited with bated breath, hoping that the two were evenly matched, that they would have enough time to free the survivors. Constantine and Raven were left behind, waiting to see who would be the victor, waited to see if they could bring down whomever emerged from the wreckage. 

In the end it had been her father, and her chance to end things for good. What transpired had taken nearly everything she had left. But he was gone, there was no doubt about that. as much as she was ashamed to admit it; she had lost something with her father’s death, a part of herself, something in her soul was ripped out violently and had dissipated into the air. She despised the man, if you could even call him that, he had brought her untold pain. But there was no question that a part of her existence, her being, was tied to him. She didn't know what that was, but whatever it was is gone.

So now she stands there. Cold and alone. Unknowing of which way to go.

Clark had offered her a place to stay and recoup, he had taken Conner in in the aftermath of the war and reasoned ‘why not another?’ But Raven knew that she was going to have to find her own way and didn't want to get too comfortable anywhere. She had burdened the Man of Steel enough, and she owes him immeasurably. 

Kori, similar to herself, was at a crossroads. She had lost her fiance. Heartbroken, the Tamaranian had decided it was time to return to her home to rebuild ties with her family. And off she went, leaving Earth behind. 

And then there was Damian. Damian had returned to Gotham with his father. Bruce had a hard exterior, but Raven knew better, she could feel how he was struggling. Damian could tell as well, so he along with the surviving members of the bat team, went back to Gotham to recover from the horrors of Apokolips. 

He had tried to get her to come with them, begged even, and Raven wanted so badly to go with them. To go with Damian. 

Their relationship had bloomed over the last couple of years. Never defined, but increasingly intimate. When they reunited in Nanda Parbat two weeks ago, things took a drastic leap. The tension that they were both aware of for years broke, and suddenly everything was different. Maybe because they were different, and the end of the world changes a person’s perspective. But suddenly they were in eachothers’ arms, relief and worry and desperation fueling the sudden openness in emotion. And it was natural, they realized that this is how it has been for years between the two of them, just not with  _ every _ part of them. 

But she couldn't go with Damian, not now at least. He needed time with his family, to mourn, to heal, and she had no part in that. The last thing they needed right now was a houseguest, so as much as it hurt her to leave Damian, she knew it was for the best. At least for now.

So where does that leave her?

She realizes that she has been standing in the middle of the room lost in thought for a long time. Looking around, she took in the damage to the common room. Shattered plates litter the floor; the marble countertop smashed and the island crumbled; pieces of the sofa have been ripped off, stuffing lost to the wind. The bay facing wall is, for lack of a better term: gone, and everything else is in general disarray.

_ We can start with this _ . She thought optimistically, flying out through the vacant wall and down to the shore below. Raven began to locate pieces of the broken wall and levitate them into a puzzle of sorts, trying to fit the pieces together. 

As the sun began to set she looked at her handiwork and watched the sun glimmer over the large shards of glass.  _ This resembles a wall. _ Wiping the sweat from her brow she prepared to move the pieces back into place, and piece she started putting the tower back together. 

Holding the pieces in place, she looked up and sighed. Holes littered the side of the tower, pieces missing everywhere. “It's no use, is it?” she muttered to herself, releasing her hold on the fragments. She sank down into the sand as she watched the tower crumble and fall for the second time.

_ There are too many pieces missing. It will never be whole again. _

* * *

_ 2 weeks _

  
  


“He’s had enough!” Bruce yelled, moving to pull his son away from the thief.

“I’ll decide when he’s had enough!” Damian seethed through gritted teeth, adding another kick to the mans chest, “and right now-”

“You’re done.” the Batman grunted, dragging the nearly grown man back, “Go home.” he continued, turned to his son, an angry but understanding look in his eye.

But Damian just stood there, breathing heavily, his shoulders hunched, staring daggers back at his father. 

“NOW!” 

Without a word, he shot a line into the sky and soared up above his father and the criminal they had apprehended. He wasn't going to go home, not yet at least. Instead he ran, jumped, from rooftop to rooftop. He ran until his head began to ache and his fingers began to freeze. He ran until he was sure that he had touched every rooftop in the city. He ran until the worried com pings from Alfred ceased. He ran until even crime was asleep, or afraid. Because they’d been afraid lately. Since coming back from Apokolips, Damian has made sure that they have been afraid, he helped destroy Darkseid and his Parademons, he didn't have the energy to deal with petty criminals. They should know their place. So he kept running until the sun began to peak over the horizon, when all is calm and quiet at the Manor. No one on their schedule would possibly be awake. He ran to retrieve his bike and drove through the early morning light.

He entered the Batcave and proceeded to change from his uniform back into civies, toweling his head off before heading up to his room for a shower. He entered the study and held back the urge to wince at the sight of a lit lamp, his father seated behind his desk calmly looking at something on his computer. “Bit late don't you think?” he remarked, clicking his mousepad twice and then turning to his son, “or is it early?” he smirked. 

“You didn’t have to-”

“I just wanted to see you come in.” Bruce said, holding his hands up in surrender.

“Why? I've got a tracker on me anyway.  _ Tt.  _ One would think that by 18 I would at least get a bit of trust and privacy” Damian all but spat, trying to blink sweat out of his eyes.

“I’m not tracking you.” Bruce supplied, “The tracker is active but I trust you enough that I’m not checking it unless…” he trailed off “But you know that I see when someone enters or leaves the cave.”

“yeah, so?”

“So” Bruce mimicked, “This is the 5th time in the last week that you've returned later than 6am, I just wanted to make sure you weren’t-”

“What? Drunk? Dead?” 

“Among other things.” 

“Well i'm fine so… you can just drop it” he sighed, moving toward the stairwell.

“Damian.” he said firmly, “if you need to ta-”

“Talk? You’re having a laugh. Bruce Wayne talking about feelings?”

“I'm merely saying that-”

“On that note. Who the fuck are you to judge me?!

“Damian” Bruce sighed “i'm not judging you. I just know a thing or two about trauma.”

“ _ Tt.  _ That's rich. I'll have to pass on the coping lessons from the man who dresses like a bat to deal with his emotions. Honestly, I can't think of someone who would be less qual-”

“I never said I was an expert with dealing with feelings, but-”

“Drop it.” Damian ground out. “I am fine”

“Damian… this was a difficult experience for everyone. It's okay that you’re not okay. I know that I may not be the poster child of mental health-”

“That's a vast understatement” Damian muttered.

“-but i've been through this, I know Dick was like a father to you, probably even more than I was”

Damian looked away at the mention of his lost brother, feeling tears begin to sting behind his eyes. “Dad-” he stopped, voice cracking,  _ since when did he refer to Bruce as dad? _ “Father, just drop it okay” he choked out “I’m going to bed”

He padded up the stairs holding back tears. The silence that fills the halls now is deafening in contrast to the noisey banter between the members of their little family that used to bounce down these halls. But Barbara was spending time with her father and Kate was doing the same with Rene. So now it was just him, his father, and Alfred. 

He peeled his t-shirt off and started the shower, turning to the mirror he took inventory. His wounds from the final battle were healing as expected. He examined the newer but now-pink scar running horizontally under his left eye and over the bridge of his nose, not daring to look down to his abdomen. Knowing he would see the raised silver gash that marked the day that he lost his brother. A cruel reminder of his inadequacy; how he wasn’t able to protect the people closest to him

Growing up, battle scars were a point of pride. But this mark was one of shame. A painful souvenir from the worst day of his life. He received it moments after watching Grayson die, and he later woke up in an empty world. He woke up searching, he had to find Raven, she had to be okay. Bodies strewn everywhere, he waded through a sea of faces, faces of people he had come to care about. He had to push down the guilt of not stopping at each face to feel sorrow, because he was determined to find one person alive. He searched up and down the beach all through the tower, he looked until his wound reopened and he was too damn weak to look any farther.

He spent months full of anger and self loathing, certain that she was dead, and certain that if he were stronger he would have been able to save her. 

Damian pulled himself from the mirror and wriggled out of his trousers, stepping into the cold shower, letting it wash away the grime of the night.

When Clark had brought Raven to Nanda Parbat, Damian had been unable to fully comprehend her presence. He felt like he was standing in front of a ghost, and then he looked at her and he realized he  _ was.  _ When she fell - no - collapsed into him, it felt like that day was happening all over again, but this time he was watching her die. What had happened in the preceding months to cause this? He had never seen her- he had never seen  **anyone** look so frail. She was one of the most powerful people he had ever met and she looked little more than a dried skeleton. Needing to be carried, too weak to walk for herself. And he hadn't been there. 

Climbing out of the shower and drying himself off, he continued to think about that day. Their conversation in the infirmary will replay in his mind for the rest of his life. 

  
  


_ “What...happened?” was all he could think to ask as he sat at the end of the bed. He immediately cursed himself. What a stupid question! “I thought you were dead,” he added, noting to himself how that was not any better. _

_ “As I thought you” she croaked, in a near whisper. _

_ “What happened to you…. I mean um- I” he coughed, struggling to broach the topic without sounding like an ass. He turned his head away and looked toward the door, and got up to close it, deciding it may be best for them to have some privacy.  _

_ “My father” she replied, just loud enough for him to hear. _

_ “Oh” he sank back onto the hospital bed, staring at his hands in his lap, not sure of how much she wanted to talk about. He had a million questions that sat right next to his growing hatred of that  _ **_thing._ ** _ “I thought-” _

_ “No” she cut in sharply. Voice stronger than it had been before. “He’s always been in there. Getting stronger-” _

_ “-While you get weaker?” he finished connecting those dots.  _

_ “Almost like he’s eating me alive.” she ended, with a strained chuckle. He turned to see her face. Raven didnt move, she continued staring straight ahead, eyes unfocused. Even with only half of her face visible, Damian could see that there was nothing in her eyes. Like she was dead and devoid of all light. She flinched under his gaze and brought bony fingers up to her face to rub her eyes. Exhausted, Damian figured.  _

_ Clearing her throat she changed the subject, “So did Clark explain why we’re here?” _

_ “Other than the fact that you needed nothing short of a full lazarus bath to not spontaneously decompose?” he deadpanned, wincing as he realized what he had just said. Out of the corner of his eye he caught a smirk on her face and so he continued, “You want mine and the League’s help on a suicide mission to go save my father and the rest of the Justice League from Darkseid on Apokolips?” _

_ She nodded. _

_ “An even more naive plan than the one that got the world into this mess.” he scoffed, turning to catch her eye. “What makes him think it will be any better this time? Now that we've lost all of our fighting force? Everything that has happened is. his. fault. He led everyone like pigs to the slaughter! He is the reason that my father… that Grayson....everybody” he trailed off. _

_ “Yes.” she agreed, looking back into his eyes momentarily before dropping his gaze.  _

_ “How can I be expected to trust him?” his voice rose, “How can you trust him?” _

_ She didn't answer right away, but he could tell by the way her mouth hung open ever so slightly that she would. She looked down at her lap, pulling at the skin around her finger nails with trembling hands. She took a rattled breath and ground out “I would be dead right now if it weren't for Clark” _

_ She paused for a moment wanting to say more, and Damian let her take her time.  _

_ “You have to understand, I thought everyone was dead. My father had been growing stronger, had become a constant voice in my head, taunting. and a-after the battle he had a stronger hold. I had exerted my powers too far. I was afraid. Everyone I knew a-and… loved were gone.” she began to explain, almost as if begging for forgiveness.  _

_ Damian could see her eyes begin to fill with tears as he turned farther toward her. She still refused to meet his gaze. “It’s okay.” he nodded, urging her to go on.  _

_ “He was close to breaking free, and with everyone and everything I care about gone, I didn't have the power to stop him. I couldn't keep him in while filled with that much despair, my power was drained from battle and I couldn't keep the emotions contained. It was completely hopeless.” She whispered, as a tear broke free and rolled down her face.  _

_ “So I decided to end it.” she confessed. _

_ The realization dawned on Damian in waves, confusion, shock, worry, but mostly anger. He tried his best to not react, to remain stoic even as pure, visceral hate engulfed his chest. His nose flaring, his lip twitching, his hands balling into fists on his knees. He had never felt anything greater than the hate he felt in that moment. He didn't care how powerful her father was, or how mortal he himself was. Trigon was going to pay. _

_ “At the last moment…” She cleared her throat, trying her hardest to pull herself together, “Clark saved… stopped me.” she exhaled, eyes still glued to her cuticles. “If he- had he-” she raised her head and met Damian’s eyes. “Had he not been there, I would be dead right now.” She frowned. “I owe him my life, and if he believes in this, then I trust him.”  _

  
  


Had he been there, had he not been injured, she would not have been that low. She would not have given into fear. She would not have even been in that situation. His absence had played a role in an act that would have erased her from the world and from his life. How could he live with himself? How could he ever make up for this?

Pulling on sweats and collapsing into bed, the scene played out in his mind again and again, his mind doing loops, his thoughts too loud for sleep. It was hours later, after he had gone over the details of each of his faults multiple times, that he was finally able to sink into darkness. 

  
  


* * *

  
  
  


_ 3 weeks _

She hadn't heard from anyone. Other than a few worried texts from Clark, Raven had not been contacted by another person since returning home. Not that she expected to. Most of her team was dead, _ and dead people don't text. They have no fingers _ she thought. Damian was alive, he has fingers, yet he still didn't text. Or call.  _ Dead people don’t call. They have no mouth.  _ But Damian has a mouth. 

_ He’s busy. He is with his dad in Gotham.  _

_ I had a dad. My dad is dead. He has neither fingers nor mouth.  _

_ Damian’s dad has fingers and a mouth.  _

  
  


Raven opened her eyes. All around her people danced, sang, talked, and laughed. Up above her, colored lights flashed like a hundred fireworks going off at once. Below her, music shook the floor. She had taken a liking to the dance clubs around Jump City over the past few weeks. Grateful that the outer city was mostly intact after the invasion, she returned to  _ The Inferno,  _ a club she had visited a few times prior to what had happened. Back then, she joked with herself about how well she would fit in at a place called  _ The Inferno _ , it's not quite as silly now that the earth has experienced apocalyptic events. Literally. But to her surprise, the place was still well in business. Apparently civilians determined the end of the world as the perfect time to party. She can't blame them, that same escapism is what brought her back here in the first place, and why she's come back nearly every night since.

It was too lonely alone in the tower. Just her and her thoughts. Just her and memories of people who had no fingers and had no mouth. So she went someplace else, someplace with lots of people, people who have a mouth and all ten digits. She’s not alone here. Turning a full 360 she looks around the crowd, reminding herself that she’s not alone. She doesn't belong, sure, but when has she ever? At least here Raven can be around other people and try to forget those she has lost. 

_ Why hasn’t Damian called? _

_ He’s busy, remember? _

_ Too busy for a call? A text? He has forgotten you. _

She looks back over her shoulder spotting the bar and starts wedging her way through the crowd. Past all the leather, lace, and glitter. The smell of alcohol and body odor barely affects her anymore. Neither do the glances at her cleavage and crude sexual comments from men as she passes by. She had never been afraid of showing her body before, her previous uniform a testament to that, so she had no problem with it now. Sticking with her usual color pallette, she donned a black low-v lace bodysuit, a pair of ripped black boyfriend jeans, and tall pumps. If she dressed like this, she reasoned, of course men were going to look at her. She didn't care for any of them, but she couldn't help but feel powerful knowing that they were looking. It gave her a new, different kind of confidence, one that more reflected her age. 

Raven reached the bar and waved to get the attention of the bartender. She pulled a $20 out of her wallet while ordering a shot of tequila and whatever the drink of the night was. She didn't really care that much. Raven stood by and waited, leaning her back on the bar and looking out into the crowd.  _ There has to be upwards of 800 people here.  _ She thought. Raven didnt want to dwell on the obvious lack of struggle she had with blocking them out, she was honestly enjoying it and with no team she had no reason to need her empathic abilities. Now she was living just like every other human, she was completely detached from the feelings of those around her. It was a relief. 

_ This is not a relief!  _

_ Something is wrong. _

_ You’re vulnerable! _

_ We need to do something about this. _

_ Something bad is going to happen.  _

She downed her shot and took a sip of her cocktail, something fruity with a long name that included a play on the word rum. She didn't care that much. She watched the people dance, exuberant and carefree, and felt a pang of sorrow. Her friends died, so that these people could go on living happy and free. She knew it was noble, and that hundreds of millions lived because of the sacrifices her friends made, but that didn't make it hurt any less.

  
  


_ The Titans are dead and you party?! _

_ You’re pathetic _

Reaching the bottom of her cocktail, she pulled out a $5 bill and ordered one more shot, before heading back to the dance floor. Toward the sea of fingers and mouths. 

She prayed to Azar that this time the voices would not return.

  
  



	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Its been a hot second since I updated this (Its been a long time, let's not lie to ourselves). I had been finishing my uni semester and was very busy.  
> I had updated this briefly a few weeks ago, but a few hours later I read it back and thought to myself "Cass, are you proud of this chapter?" and the answer was no. So I took it down and spent awhile re-writing/ adapting it and I think this one is much better.  
> I don't want my beginning notes to be super long but I will be talking a bit about where my writing of characters is coming from down at the end notes.

**!!!TO AVOID SPOILERS FOR JLD: APOKOLIPS WAR, I RECOMMEND READING AT A LATER DATE!!!**

Before we get started:

So Apokolips War came out (Loved it) and of course now my fic is non-canon compliant (never expected it to be compliant) so I want to go ahead and map out my differences. I will try to keep as close to canon as I can going forward, but this is now an AU of sorts so there will be inconsistencies. So here are my changes:

  * Dick IS dead here. Sorry.
  * Obviously this is without a Flashpoint. 
  * There are no major issues with the world's core. And the damage is bad, but less extreme.
  * Lois, Conner, Barbara, Kate, and anyone else mentioned in the last chapter are still around and kicking.
  * Damian did not ask Raven to join him in leading the LoA.
  * All events were explained in the last chapter as far as what has happened during the movie stands. I am going to try to integrate them into the canon or leave them be. 



Basically, anything in the last chapter stands, but from here on I will be keeping (somewhat) to the canon. 

And off we go...

  
  


4 Weeks

Damian watched through his curtains as the sun rose. For the past few weeks he had cherished those sunrises, an indication that his day would start and he would soon have some distractions and other things to focus on. But today’s sun was unwelcome, Damian did not intend to greet it this morning. Today’s sun could shove it, its rising is an inconvenience, the daylight could stay away today and he would be glad.

_I should have just slept._ Not for a lack of effort had Damian been awake through the night, the dread that pooled in his stomach had made him far too heavy for sleep. It was like a sticky cement that he ingested with each breath he took, amassing to a boulder that threatened to sink him through his bed, through the floors beneath him, deep into the cave, and force him flying into the Wayne family’s homely abyss. _Grayson had always wanted to turn the trench into a giant ball pit._ **_Stop._**

Thinking about him wasn’t going to make anything better. He would be better off training. He pushed himself up from his desk chair with a sigh and clasped his arms high above his head to stretch out his tired muscles before padding to his dresser to retrieve his training clothes. Damian pulled his drawer open to find a single pair of shorts that had resided in his dresser since he was thirteen, and a scrap of paper. He scowled at his door, knowing that there had been a fully stocked drawer yesterday morning. He snatched the parchment and read the note on the back.

_ “One a day. _

_ -Alfred.” _

Angrily, Damian grabbed the shorts from his dresser. He held them up and surveyed the waistband.  _ Always the comedian. _ Pennyworth had this idiotic idea that one could train too much, as if his father was any better about his training habits. As if his father would not be training just as much as himself if he didn’t have his Wayne Enterprises responsibilities. As if any of that matters anymore. What was Bruce even doing there? What was the point of rebuilding the company? They had more than enough money and it's not like the stock market even exists anymore. Father had made some excuse about creating jobs. Forever the philanthropist. 

He peered at the clock. 7:12. Fantastic. Just great. 

Swallowing his pride, Damian cracked open his bedroom door, checking the hallway for the prying eyes of the funnyman butler.  _ Making me sneak around my own damn home. I've trained nearly all day, everyday of my life. _ This is what Damian was meant for, the reason for his creation, the only thing he had ever known. Training to become the most elite warrior, a perfect specimen, incapable of defeat. He knew nothing else. Sure, he possessed a genius IQ and was expertly educated in nearly every subject and topic, but never had it been in the plan for Damian to use that knowledge for anything other than tactical advantage. He was meant for nothing else, and he wanted nothing else. 

Passing the threshold behind the grandfather clock, he heard a deliberate clearing of a throat. Damian groaned inwardly but continued his trek downward, feigning ignorance. If he ignored them, the problem would go away. The lights turned on and he heard the passage door shut. Damian let out a sigh of relief and made his way down the stairwell, pushing back memories of Dick.

_ “Let loose kid, I used to do this all the time when I was your age” he had said, mounting the metal bar side-saddle. “Look it's fun!” Dick lifted his feet from the step and began gliding downward. On his descent, he dodged and narrowly missed a stalactite that would have slashed his shoulder. In the attempt to move out of the way he had leaned back, which caused his back to collide with the wall behind the rail. His body twisted and flung itself down the remaining few steps and he was left sprawled on the cave floor; his shirt ripped relealing his shoulder blade which donned an angry red friction burn.  _

_ Damian let out a thick taunting string of laughter as he came down the stairwell, as Dick rolled over and propped himself up on his hands with a sheepish grin. “Like I said, I was your age, small, just your size.”  _

Burying the memory, Damian made his way to his “locker” and grabbed a pair of his Robin’s uniform trousers. He bitterly pulled them on and began stretching out his arms and legs, grumbling to himself about not being able to go for his warm up run.  _ I suppose I could take laps around the estate’s grounds,  _ He thought,  _ but that would lead to a scolding of some kind, wouldn’t it?  _

As if on cue, the sound of Alfred’s elevator doors opening echoed through the cave and this time Damian’s groan was not kept internal. “What is it this time, Pennyworth?” he groaned.

“No mountain you won't summit, I see.” Alfred sighed. “I come to remind you that Master Timothy and Master Jason will be arriving in three hours. Best to be cleansed and presentable by then, Master Damian.” he glided across the room to a bench, where he placed two bottled waters and a clean towel. 

Without another word, Damian watched as the butler turned on his heel and returned the way he came. Damian didn't miss the look of disappointment on his face, nor the glint of sorrow in his eyes.  _ Guess I could go on that run after all.  _

Training was Damian’s release. Down in the cave in the early hours of the morning, he let out his anger, his grief, his guilt. He worked to grow stronger, it was his only motivation, to never be weak again. He went about his training for the day on his usual schedule: first a run, then strength training, next hand to hand practice, review grappling and melee techniques, finishing with an hour and a half of simulation. He would work out his aggression in the morning, allowing himself to be tired and calm for the day to come.

Today was different, he felt gravely calm, numb even. He completed his routine in silence, mind blank, he worked almost completely off of muscle memory. And he simulation stopped, signaling that it had been 30 minutes, the default time set that Damian could not seem to bypass.

Damian looked around himself, slightly confused, there is no way that it was even 8:30 already, let alone 10:15, he had come down to start his workout just moments ago. Damian looked down at his watch, 10:15. He moved across the cave and clicked on one of the computer monitors, 10:15. Where did the last four hours go? A bead of sweat made its way down his forehead and into his eye, so he had at least done his workout. 10:15. 

_ Fifteen minutes. _

Despite running horribly late, Damian took his time to dry off, walk out of the cave, up to his room, into the shower, and so on. 

Hair dried and combed, shirt pressed, tie tied. Damian somberly laced up his oxfords and peered up at the clock on his wall. 10:45. They would be waiting now. Probably staring in silence at each other from across the study, refusing to make eye contact. Maybe Jason had tried to make a joke, most likely something to do with his own death. Perhaps he would have gotten a suppressed chuckle from Kate, but it probably just fell on deaf ears. Tough crowd. They stood down there waiting for him, limos in the driveway, each minute he sat on the edge of his bed they were likely being charged for. But money never mattered in the Wayne household anyway. It didn't matter though, did it? All of the family here, dressed up, waiting. But today isn't about them, they can all go fuck themselves. So he would sit on the edge of the bed and make them wait. 

He spent a few more minutes staring through the window, willing his eyes to stop stinging, before a soft knock came at his door. He breathed deep into his chest and pushed himself off of the bed, moving to pull his jacket off of his desk chair. “Be just another moment Pennyworth” he called.

“You decent?” responded a significantly younger voice than he had expected. After a few beats of silence passed, his door creaked open. “How are you spawn?”

“Todd.” Damian nodded, pulling his jacket on. This is the last thing he wanted right now. Silence is the preferred soundtrack for the day. Avoiding eye contact, he focused resolutely on the carpet in front of him, Damian began with his buttons. “I’m ready to go.”

He heard his door close silently and he made to finish his buttons and leave until he heard his bed creak from the added weight of an unwanted guest. Sighing, he turned to glare at his ‘brother.’ The coming hours were already going to be difficult, the least he could get is a few more moments of privacy. “I’ll be down in two minutes, there is no need to watch over me like I'm some child who wanted to dress themselves before primary school.”

“Just making sure you don’t put your shoes on  _ before _ your socks” Jason chuckled. “No, Damian. I just wanted to talk.”

“Pass. Are we not late already? Wouldn't want to keep the dead waiting.” Time does not exist when you’re dead, so why would Grayson care? Today was about him, not the people downstairs. “Let's just get this over with.”

“Damian, I know that you want to go to this even less than I do. Sit and we can kill a few more minutes.” Jason reasoned, patting the spot on the bed next to himself.

Damian begrudgingly moved across the room and sat himself down at his desk chair, swiveling to an angle that  _ almost _ faced his adoptive brother. “Your logic is infallible, Todd.” he said, crossing his arms.

They sat in silence. Todd was tolerable. He had never been a threat and had never been overbearing. He knew when to leave things alone, was never caught up with other people’s emotions, he understood that it was none of his business. Damian appreciated his self control, Todd knew when not to kill someone, and when it was necessary. He almost envied his freedom in that sense, no shadow over his shoulder to disappoint. Damian has come a long way, ‘justice not vengeance,’ but there are circumstances that merit lethal force. The Joker should be dead, a sentiment both he and Todd held firmly. Whether the manic was alive now is still up for debate. If it were up to Damian, the clown would have been six feet under far before the end of the world. 

Todd shifted and took a deep breath.  _ Don't ask what I think you're about to ask.  _ Preemptively, Damian pushed himself off from the side of the bed and finished buttoning his cuffs and jacket. “No more putting it off,” he announced, stepping across the room and pulling the door open, motioning for Todd to follow him. 

He sighed with a look of annoyed defeat on his face. “You couldn't be more right, kid” he whispered, barely audible to Damian, who didn't even register the man’s words. Todd walked through the threshold, stopping to gently place a hand on Damian's shoulder. He continued away through the hall and down the stairs, and once again Damian was alone. 

* * *

4 Weeks

Her skull had to be fractured. Someone along the way must have stomped on her temples with the heels of a stiletto. Pain radiated like a taut crown of thorns around her head, it was a serpent that would continue to squeeze her brain until her eyes popped out of their sockets. Raven squinted one of her eyes open and surveyed the area in front of her,  _ not my room _ . Eyeing her clutch, she gracelessly snatched it from the nightstand. She fumbled with the clasp and yanked it open, fingers searching. Once they found their target she retrieved the small white tablet and popped it into her mouth. She rolled back onto her back and pressed the heels of her hand into her eyes, her elbow knocked against a solid warm mass. 

_ What the fuck Raven? _

_ Yeah, what the fuck Raven? _

_ I'm an adult, I make my own decisions and this is fine. _

_ You really are just a whore now, aren't you? _

_ Shut up. _

_ Make me _

_ I’m trying _

“Morning” a low voice comes from the other side of the bed, “Sleep well?” Raven pulled her hands from her face and turned toward the mystery person she had awoken next to. He was lounging on his elbow grinning at her,  _ at least this one is good looking,  _ she took in his smooth dark skin and short black hair. The duvet lay over his hips and allowed Raven to get a view at his toned chest and assortment of tribal tattoos, he looked to be around 25.  _ Definitely could have done worse. _ She thought, pulling one side of her lips to grin at the man. The man.  _ What the hell is his name? _

“I did.” she responded in a high tone, cringing internally at the sound of her own voice. Raven pulled herself up onto her elbows and picked her phone off from the nightstand; its battery was dead. She momentarily thought of asking for a charger, but thought better of it. She should be on her way. 

_ What if Damian has called you? _

_ He definitely called  _

_ He called and you’re in bed with another man. _

_ He’s going to hate you _

“Have a charger?” she asked, wagging her phone slightly at the man. Sean perhaps? David? She had definitely talked to a David recently, but can't remember if it was last night or the one before. “Phone’s dead. I need to call a lift.” he unplugged his own and plugged hers in on his side of the bed. 

“Coffee?” he asked as he pulled the covers off of himself. He stood and pulled on a pair of sweatpants from a pile of laundry. 

“Sure.” she called after him as he left the room. Now that he was gone, she took her time to survey the room around her. It was a nice apartment, light wooden floors and plenty of sunlight pouring in from the floor to ceiling windows. It was plainly furnished, almost like a hotel, but the  _ Star Wars _ and  _ Rolling Stones _ posters framed on the walls indicated to her that this was not indeed a hotel.  _ I wonder if it came fully furnished. I guess he’s renting, she _ thought, observing a plastic plant that she was sure would not have been purchased by a twenty something man. 

She stretched her legs and pulled herself out of the bed, swaying slightly as she became vertical. Her headache intensified at the sudden change of altitude and she had to close her eyes for a few moments to let it subside. Raven leaned down to collect her dress from the floor, trying to keep her head as level as she could on the way down. Walking into the adjoining bathroom, Raven threw the dress over her head and wriggled it down her torso and over her hips. She studied herself in the mirror, her hair was wild and her eyeliner was heavily smudged. As she pulled her hair into a lazy half-up-half-down ponytail she took note of the hickies on her neck and chest, reminding herself that she needed to heal those once she got back to the tower. 

_ Waste _

_ The girl whose destiny was to destroy and rule the world, everyone!  _

“Sugar or cream?”

_ I never wanted to be that. I'm not that. _

_ You were meant for great things, now look at you. _

_ Pitiful _

“Hey. Do you want any sugar or cream in your coffee?” Raven jumped and turned to see the man leaning on the door frame. He stared at her with his forehead creased and eyebrow slightly raised. 

“Sugar, please.” she answered, following him through his room and out toward his living room and kitchen, which looked just as sleek and bare as his room did, white walls, chrome appliances, and black leather sofa that did not seem very comfortable. It was a far cry from the chaotic atmosphere Raven was used to at the tower, especially these days. She had managed to get the open walls covered in thin plastic sheeting and had started on cleaning debris and broken furniture from the interior. Futile as it seemed, it had at least given her something to focus her energy on, something to do. However, she had not been doing much work on it the last week or so. Surprisingly, crime was low in the city, which meant that she didn’t have much of a chance to do what she knew, help people. Most citizens and authority figures were working together to clean and rebuild. It was bleak, but the people of Jump City seemed to be somewhat hopeful. Those who would usually commit crimes seemed to understand the importance of the restoration, and shockingly did not use it as an opportunity to cause problems. 

Raven sat on a stool at the island in the kitchen and took the offered cup of coffee, the man leaned against the counter on the other side. She rose the scalding liquid to her lips and took a small sip, not bothered by the temperature as her body began to feel lighter and the pain in her skull dulled from her morning pick-me-up. “Thank you,” she remembered to add.

“No problem, wouldn’t feel right to just kick you out.” he smiled, “plus, if i'm being completely honest, you look like you need it.” 

“Yeah” she chuckled, “you can say that again.” The air felt thick and awkward, Raven did not exactly know how to talk to or address this man, and was hoping that he would make some kind of conversation or move in a way that gave her some kind of opening to leave. “So… what is it that you do?” she asked, hoping that she had not already asked the same the night previous. 

“Architecture. I’m apprenticing over at Garrison-Reid National while I work on my masters degree.” he told her.

“That's interesting.” she said, not knowing how to reply. “You must be good at math.”

He smiled back at her, not annoyed, but she could tell that it had been a stupid thing to say, and a remark he had heard countless times. The problem with going out into the ‘real world’ after spending her life bouncing between living with monks from another dimension, living in hell, and being a teenage superhero, was that she was highly inept when it came to interacting with others. She had spent the last few weeks in public, but made sure that she was just another person in the crowd to avoid, well, being the weird girl. Even amongst the Titans, whom each had an odd upbringing in their own right, she had been the weird girl.

_ Witch girl. _

_ Freak. _

“Yeah, I am” he smiled, flashing his bright white teeth. “What about you? What is it that you do?” 

Raven looked away, not knowing how to respond. ‘Heros’ were not well liked right now. They had in one way or another been the cause of all the destruction. Sure this would have probably happened eventually regardless, but without their attack on Apokolips, there would have been more resistance on the homefront. Hindsight was 20-20, but even with her faith in Clark, Raven knew that he had made the wrong call. It didn't help their case that most of the remaining League had been MIA since the final battle, but they all needed time. Raven was more than aware that she could be doing more, but she couldn’t bring herself to do so, even if her inaction made her feel awful about herself. 

“I’m um… Kinda out of a job right now.” she said. “I bet architecture is a good business to be in right now.” she added, trying to pull any attention off of herself. 

“Yeah” the man said, looking conflicted. They fell into silence, neither knowing where to go from there. 

_ Just like you to ruin a conversation like that. _

_ Always the optimist. _

_ This is why no one wants to be around you. _

“Would you like some breakfast?”

“I ought to get going.” Raven said, as she set her mug on the counter and jumped off of the stool. The ground under her felt uneven as she walked back into the bedroom to collect her belongings. She grabbed her phone off of the nightstand to see that she had no messages or missed calls and scolded herself for once again getting her hopes up. She stepped back into her shoes and realized that she was going to have to walk in them. Her head was spinning and her feet were sore and that did not seem like a favorable option. So like the movie cliche, Raven dangled the heels from her fingers and exited the apartment, thanking the man for the coffee as she left.

Heading into the street, Raven slunk back into an alleyway to teleport herself back to the tower. She landed in the common room, slipping on a can that had been haphazardly discarded on the floor. She floated across the room and into the north wing. She had taken to staying in Damian’s room, staying in her old room felt unnatural, like she was pretending that everything was just how it used to be. Nothing is normal, she can’t pretend that it is. Damian’s room makes her feel close to him. He still hasn't called or texted. He hasn't sent a page or a letter. So his quarters was the best she could do to feel his presence. 

She made quick work of pulling off her dress, bra, panties, earrings, bracelets, rings. Down to nothing. She padded her way to the shower, rotating the dial as far as it would go toward scalding, and stepped in. She washed her hair, her face, she shaved, and then began to wash her body. She scrubbed her arms and legs with an old kitchen towel, she had yet to do any laundry and no one else was using them, so why shouldn't she use the kitchen towels. 

_ Why hasn't Damian contacted you? _

_ He has grown bored of us. _

_ He only said those things because it was the end of the world. _

_ What would he think if he saw you now?  _

_ Trash.. _

_ Whore… _

_ Junkie...  _

_ You were the easiest, hell, the only thing around for him then. And now that the world has started to go back to normal, he has no need for you. _

_ No one has any need for you.  _

_ You’re worthless.  _

_ Unneeded. _

_ A waste. _

“SHUT UP!” Raven shrieked. The Mirror on the wall shattered and a bulb on the overhead light blew, causing the lights in the washroom to flicker. Raven looked down at her leg, the one she had been scrubbing, and saw that it was now red, raw, and weeping. 

She turned the water off and exited the shower, she didn't bother to dry herself. Listless, she entered the bedroom and sat on the edge of the bed and tried to meditate. She hadn’t been very successful since her father had begun to take control all those years ago, and still couldn't get into that space. She sat on the bed until her hair began to dry, trying to force her mind to clear. 

_ You’re losing it. _

_ Take a fucking look at yourself! _

_ They thought you were odd before. _

She stood abruptly and moved herself before the body length mirror. Observing the lines of her ribs, the curve of her spine, the sharpness of her shoulders. 

_ I wouldn't want me either. _

She looked ridiculous and small. Weak and pitiful. How had she managed to look the same as she had before being rid of her father? Maybe it was the lack of training. Maybe the absence of Gar ordering pizza or Jaime cooking his parents' recipes. How was she completely safe, yet still managing to waste away?

Throwing on sweatpants and a t-shirt of Damian’s, she walked to the kitchen. Counting every crack in the wall as she went. There are 67 between Damian’s room and the kitchen _. _ 52 between Damian’s room and the common room. 103 between Damian’s room and the infirmary. 252 between Damian’s room and the training room.

..64..

..65..

..66..

..67

The fridge currently housed a half eaten container of carry out rice, two slices of week old pizza, four budweisers, half of an expired carton of almond milk, and a bag of shredded cheese. Raven grabbed the rice, the cheese, and a beer and sat cross legged on the floor next to their kitchen table, barely noticing the sting of her shin as it made contact with her other leg. She had stacked her books under the broken legs, figuring that she had read them all anyway and might as well make them useful, yet the table still only stood as tall as her mid thigh. She sat silent, mindlessly spooning the cold and tasteless rice into her mouth as she drifted backwards in time. 

Gar sat diagonal to her, syrup covering his fingers and coating the light fuzz on his chin. He was laughing at one of his own jokes, causing drops of syrup to fly across the table and onto Karen’s shirt. She shot a small shock into his chest, eliciting a round of laughter from almost everyone. Kori let out a loud sigh but chose not to say anything. At the end of the table, Roy had grabbed a napkin and an ice cube and was helping to wipe the sticky liquid from Karen’s top. Across from Raven, young Donna sat nearly in tears trying to suppress her laughter while Wally continued to consume an inhumane quantity of waffles. 

“How juvenile.” Damian muttered from the seat next to hers. She shook her head and grinned, then went back to cutting her food. Damian wiped his mouth and sat back, bringing his hand to rest on Raven’s knee, “Do you still want help with hand-to-hand?” 

“I would appreciate it.” she nodded, popping the last piece of her waffle into her mouth. “After breakfast then? We don't have training until after lunch today” 

“Yeah, sounds good.” he paused, “Is there any particular reason you've decided to take an interest now? It's not exactly like you need to know how to fight that way.” he inquired, quirking his head toward her. “Not that it's a bad thing.” he added quickly.

“It may be useful. “Besides,” she nodded her head toward the group across from them, “it beats spending the day watching them bicker over some game.”

“Agreed.” Damian smirked, “Plus you get the privilege to learn from the best.” 

She rolled her eyes as she picked up her plate, moved her chair back, and stood up. “You’ve got to get that ego in check, _Boy Wonder_.” She flew to the kitchenette, levitated her dishes and a sponge to wash up in the sink, and summoned a water bottle to come flying over to her from the fridge. “I’d have you on your ass before you could blink.” she said over the table and a few heads turned her way. Damian just held his hands up in mock defeat.

A few moments later she flew back over to his side and grabbed a strawberry off of the table. “Twenty minutes?” she asked quietly. Damian offered a curt nod in the affirmative. Raven popped the berry into her mouth and then, just to make a point, She went through a portal into her room.

She stood in her room, which was covered in a thick layer of dust. She walked to her bookshelf and swiped at it with her finger and stared at the particles quizzically. A rustling sound behind her drew her attention and she turned to see her wall covered in plastic sheeting.  _ How peculiar  _ she thought, moving to her dresser to retrieve her uniform. She stopped midway, eyebrows creasing as she looked to her left and then her right. A small spark of understanding flickered in the back of her mind.  _ You’ve got to ground yourself _ . She looked down at her body.  _ This is your body, Raven. _ She looked around herself.  _ This is your room at Titans Tower.  _ She closed her eyes tight and pieced together what she knew to be true.  _ You live in Titans Tower alone. You lost your friends in a war, they used to live here with you. You have been living here again for a little over a month. Your father was a demon named Trigon, and he is gone. Your boyf- something lives in Gotham.  _ She continued on taking stock of herself and the world, before she worried herself with what was going on in her head. 

_ Fuck _ .

* * *

4 Weeks

They departed separately and silently. Damian lingered behind, as much as he did not want to be here, leaving made everything feel final. He sat at a bench under a large birch tree to look out at the grass and sun. Today had no right to be a beautiful day, he firmly held his belief that the sun could shove it. This was a bad day and bad days deserve to be ugly. As he thought more about it, he decided that nothing should be allowed to be beautiful anymore. Fuck the sun, fuck the grass, fuck the birds, fuck everything. 

At the edge of his field of vision, Damian registered an approaching figure. He wanted to be alone, and just hoped that they planned to pass him by. He turned and recognized it to be Jason.  _ Do I really have to do this right now? He’s already accosted me once today. Todd seems to severely undervalue his fingers. _ “What do you want Todd? This is not the best time.” 

“Shit.” Jason shook his head. “I just want to talk to you, and listen if you need to talk.”

“My father put you up to this?” Damian scoffed. “Are you going to report your findings back to him? Hold a briefing on ‘everything Damian Wayne?’”

“Does that sound like me at all? Honestly kid I’m offended.” he grinned, “I’m the last person you have to worry will gossip on to the big bad bat.”

“You’ve disappointed me, Todd, I had figured you would be the least likely to harass me about... this type of stuff.”

“I jus-I know what you're going through”

“No you don’t.” Damian scowled. He has no clue. Watching a loved one die, knowing that you could have prevented it. If you could've done more, you could’ve helped. Jason wasn’t even there!  _ oh, right.  _ “Sorry” he breathed, deflating.

“You’re right, to an extent. I wasn’t there.” Jason admitted, understanding Daman’s train of thought. He raked his hand through his hair, “You’ve been through a lot recently. I just wanted to see if you needed to talk about...Bruce told me what happened on Apokolips”

“There are many things that happened on Apokolips, Todd, You’ll have to be more specific.” Damian said, rolling his eyes and slumping back into his chair. 

“You fucking died dude.” Jason blurted, incredulously. “I know what that's like. I may have had a bit more misguided anger coming out, but I know what kind of toll that takes.”

“It's not the same thing. The Lazarus Pit messes people up. I just woke up from an odd nap.” A cold, dark, deep nap. He didn't exist. No pleasure, no pain. No happiness, no sadness. No being. He was truly at peace. For a moment. Then he was scooped into the grasp of warm tendrils of energy, pulling him up and up until he breached through the surface. He could only describe it as somewhat like how ears pop as pressure changes at higher or lower altitudes. His whole body pulsed. He was violently thrust back into the corporeal world, assaulted by all the anger, the pain, the desperation that his living self had left behind, and his dead self was rid of. That one second was the longest he had experienced. His elation at being alive, his wish to be dead again, his hope for the future, his sorrow for the past. Then he opened his eyes and looked straight into her’s and all of the anguish left him momentarily. He lay in her arms and nothing had ever felt so right. For the next few moments, he had felt that everything would be okay. 

“Dami, just listen” Jason started before Damian could finish telling him off. “I know what death is like. I know how unbearable being resurrected is. I also understand that, despite being powered by the same magical source, neither of our experiences are exactly the same. But I got through it. I know that we have never been close, but I can’t let you go through this alone, man.” He stopped to take a drag of his cigarette and then continued on, “In our line of work, we carry a lot of pain and grief and anger and sorrow on our shoulders. I know that even at our best, it feels impossible to hold ourselves together. We hold together by threads. In the last year, Dami, I know that your threads had been snapped. Some were re-strung, and others continues to dangle.” 

“What is going on with you guys? All of the sudden you and my father want to get all mushy and soft like some naive school girls? I expected more from you Todd.”

“It's weird for me too. Trust me. Shit like this brings out odd things in people I guess.”

“What about Dick?” Jason asked, changing the subject.

At first, Damian didn’t register that he had been spoken to, and Jason had to repeat himself a few times before Damian finally registered his voice and answered, “He’s dead because of me. Died protecting me.” 

“Would he still be alive if he didn’t try to protect you?” 

“Maybe”

“Who survived the battle at Titans Tower?”

“Superboy, Raven, and I. Why?”

“What do Superboy and Raven have in common?” Jason asked.

“They have powers.” Damian shrugged.

“They were the two most powerful Titans, there is zero denying that fact. Starfire, Blue Beetle, Wondergirl, Kid Flash, all of the other Titans with powers didn't make it. Do you think that by that point in the battle that Dick didn’t realize the astronomically poor odds that either of you were going to make it? Neither of you were getting out alive. He made a last ditch effort to give you a fighting chance because he knew that otherwise both of your fates were sealed.” 

Damian didn't know what to say, he had not entertained that thought. Todd’s logic was airtight, oddly enough, but it didn’t make any of it hurt any less. “I miss him.” Damian squeaked out, his traitorous eyes began to sting and moisten. “He was my brother and I miss him.”

“I miss him too.”

Damian held his tears back with practiced discipline. “It’s not fair, you know. It's not right that I got to come back and he got to stay dead. Grayson was a good person, he was happy. Death has got to be so incredibly cold for him when he lived his life in light. When I died I felt relieved, as fucked up as that sounds.” he laughed, “I’m an awful person and I’ve lived a life in darkness with it all weighing me down. He didn’t deserve to have his joy-filled life ripped away from him, he deserved to go on and live a full and spirited life. I came back and its unfair because I’m not capable of that life, and that's a fucking waste.”

The words had flowed out of his mouth with no barrier. Damian held his breath. _Why the fuck did you say that?_ _To Todd of all people._ These were not the words of a warrior. These were the words of a child, an emotional and weak little boy. He said what he said and regretted his loss of composure. He tried to deny the fact that in reality, he felt better after saying it. The boulder in his gut had grown a bit lighter.

Jason remained silent. It seemed that up to this point he had thought out what to say, but was unable to find a response to Damian’s unexpected confession. The two slid back into their charged silence. Neither knowing quite what to say next. Damian desperately wanted this conversation to be over. He was ready to leave now.

“Is it hard being back in Gotham?”

Damian stayed silent, focused on sparking Jason’s lighter on and off. Of course it was, what a stupid question. He roamed the halls of a mansion that felt like a graveyard of memories. It was full of ghosts. Everywhere he went held a reminder of what things were like before. Even the streets held memories. On the few patrols his father had allowed him on since the incident, Damian couldn't help but picture past missions and conversations. 

“I have a proposal for you.” Todd said, breaking Damian out of his internal response. 

“Mmm?” 

“Come with me to Bialya.” 

Damian’s head whipped around, “What?” he breathed, eyebrows knit together.

“Yeah.” Jason shrugged, “I could use an extra pair of eyes and a good fighter. I get the feeling that it would do you good to get out of here. Be good for you to do something. Something good for the world besides beating the shit out of petty street criminals, do something that makes a difference.”

“What exactly are we talking about here?” Damian inquired, and at that moment Jason knew he had done it.

“Human trafficking ring. Gather intel, infiltrate, dismantle. It could take weeks or months, maybe longer. I leave tomorrow, but the plane seats more than one, and I want you to go with me.”

Damian nodded resolutely. 

“I’m in”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Firstly, thank you so much for reading and any comment or critique would be greatly appreciated.  
> I am going to be utilizing Authors Notes quite heavily as I think that communicating with readers is important.   
> As for why and how I am writing this (it gets personal oooh):  
> writing is used for many to cope, and the angsty angst selfishly gives me a chance to project my own feelings or experiences through characters that I feel a connection to. I suffer from Bipolar Disorder and PTSD, so how I am writing is a representation of those struggles and how they tangled together for me. The characters are all going to be in a varying range of OOC, but that's part of the point as trauma has a way of causing people to act very different than how they usually act.  
> -Raven is written thinking back on the manic episode that my assault triggered, its not pretty and it will get worse before it gets better. She is making poor decisions and using unhealthy coping mechanisms.   
> -Damian is written thinking back on the depressive episode that followed that manic episode. He is angry, he is bottling up his feelings, he is blaming himself and going through all of the "what ifs."   
> Damirae IS endgame, but it's going to be a slow road. This fic is going to be an exploration of dealing with trauma so if you're like me and shamelessly love seeing characters in pain then you're in the right place. 
> 
> Updates will be sporadic, and I'm sorry. But I promise that no update will take as long as this one.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Possible TWs. To avoid spoilers, I am including them in end notes.   
> Somethings will or will not appear in the tags going forward, but I will make sure to include them in notes.

5 Weeks

_ She woke screaming. A searing pain assaulting her frontal lobe. It felt like boiling lava. The earth was trembling beneath her and Raven could hear the faint shouts of her teammates from down the hallway. “NO!” she shouted, pounding the heel of her hand against her forehead. “I won't let you!”  _

_ “You can’t hold me in forever.” Trigon boomed. “You’re not strong enough.”  _

_ “Yes I am.” she shouted into her room, more to reassure herself than threaten her father. “Has it not occurred to you yet that I am just as strong as you? Perhaps more, why else would you be trapped?” she taunted. _

_ “You are merely mortal-” _

_ “Half mortal, you-” _

_ “That half is weak. Pain, fatigue, petty emotional attachment. You can be damaged. You can be hurt. I have no such restraints, you foolish girl.” he reminded her, as he had time and time again. _

_ “GO TO HELL!” she shouted back, as she grasped her pounding head in her hands. Raven curled in on herself, staving off the panic and fear threatening to overcome her, cloud her ability to do whatever needed to be done. _

_ A loud banging came from the door. “Raven! Raven!? What's going on?!” It was Damian, of course it was.  _ Not now, he can't be here now. _ she thought. The quaking ground, or her screams, or both had awoken the other Titans and alerted them that something was happening, and that she was the cause of it. As she would be. “RAVEN!” he continued, sounding frantic, “I WILL break this door down.” She knew he wasn’t bluffing, but still she held her position on the edge of her bed, clutching her head, steeling herself for a trip into her mind to deal with her father. _

_ Raven pushed herself in and was met with a strong resistance, this had never happened before.  _ How the hell? _ She pushed harder against the barrier, but it held firm. How was she blocked out of her own damn mind?! _

_ Moments later her door crashed inward and a disheveled Damian burst into the room in his nightclothes. He lunged toward her, clutching onto her upper body and arms as he tore his head around to locate the source of danger. Finding none, having not yet realizing that the danger was Raven herself, Damian turned back to her with fearful eyes and confusion written in his face with a furrowed brow. Raven remained hunched forward pushing and pushing at the pain in her forehead, searching for a weak spot, trying to find an opening. To no avail. Trigon had built a fierce barrier, an assault she was sure that he had been building in her blindspots for a while. Waiting until he had Raven weak enough as too not to overpower him. This was Trigon’s night of attack.  _

_ Desperation caused Raven’s heart to thud out of her chest as she pulled her face to Damian. She could feel it trying to morph into its demon state, and Raven used everything she could to bat it down. She was flickering back and forth as the pain in the gem increased. “You have to get out of here.” she grunted to her friend. “Take everyone, get as far away as possible. Don’t tell me where you’re going.” _

_ Realization sweeped Damians face, he now understood what it was that was happening, “Rav-” _

_ “NOW” she strained. “Go. Please. As fast as you can. I don’t know how long I can hold him now that…” her pleading voice was then lost to the surging pressure in her head. _

_ “I’m staying with you. We beat him once.”  _

_ “Damian, You don't understand.” she cried. “This is not like the last time. I need you-” _

_ With another sharp stab of pain, Raven knew her father had broken through yet another one of his restraints. She didn't know how many there were left, she was completely blocked out, cut off from the happenings within her own head. Raven knew he was close. She stood, pushing Damian back. “LEAVE!” she asserted “I need you to get everyone to safety. I need YOU to be safe.” she panted, looking desperately into Damian’s wide eyes for a split second before another wave of pain overcame her and her body contracted, bringing her down to her knees. _

_ The ground below them began to jerk more violently. “Not tonight, daughter.” Trigon boomed as he ripped through the walls he had built and the ones she had before him. _

_ Raven was in agony. Lightning seized her veins and fire scorched her flesh. Involuntarily, her back arched and her arms contorted backwards in a way that threatened to rip them from her shoulders. A scream ripped from her now raw throat as she rose from the ground, her feet dangling two feet from the carpet. The pressure from the gem in her forehead intensified as it grew red hot, melting the skin surrounding it, before it ripped itself violently from her flesh. _

_ Her body was thrown to the ground and she lay gasping for what shallow breath she was able to suck in. She could not move. She watched horrified as Trigon materialized, at a near human size, before her. The demon stared down at her with fury. “And for your defiance…” he slowly turned his head toward Damian, and her heart seized. “You will watch as I destroy the feeble human whom you have foolishly attached yourself to. He shall be your penalty.” _

_ Terror seized her with an unprecedented intensity. She tried to scream, tried to stop it, tried to reason, to bargain, but her voice caught in her throat, her mouth uncooperative. She couldn’t move, her body was far too heavy. Filled with rocks. She was helpless to interfere, to stop it. She was helpless to save the person she loves. No. not even just that. This is her fault. She killed the man she loves. This is her fault. Before there was so much that she could do, and now there was nothing to do but watch. Trigon was right about very little, but his assessment of her naivete was spot on. She caused all of this pain, she was the reason that the world would soon burn. Everything reduced to ash. She had been selfish in her intrusion of this dimension, her brief happiness traded for billions of lives. Why had she allowed this? Why had she not done something before? a preemptive strike? _

_ Raven wanted to look away, but could only watch as Damian stood firm with his stupid stuborn determination as he faced her father, whom she knew would be his last foe. If he were less prideful he would run, it wouldn’t have made a difference, but his spitefulness was infuriating in this moment. Raven had always admired his boldness, though born of arrogance, there was no second guessing what his motivations were, and he held his head high as he pursued his goals. But now she hated that quality, if he weren't so damn thick, if his motivations had not been so drastically manipulated by her. Their friendship and affection for one another was now his undoing, had he stood firm in his initial distrust, perhaps even finding a way to get rid of her, he would not be facing his own demise. But just like her, he was mortal, a flawed individual. Damian’s fate was sealed by his trust and her hand, it was sealed the moment she first drew breath. _

_ Trigon advanced on him and unceremoniously tore his arms away from his body, as if pulling petals from a flower. A beautiful and loyal flower. The speed in which he would meet his end was undignified. If he is to die, which he was, he deserved a proper death, one soaked in valiancy and honor. Not in misplaced trust and stolen affection. _

_ Raven’s vision began to swim as she went into shock, the edges of her vision began to darken and the shadows closed in. Yet she watched on as fire engulfed her boy. His screams filled the room and assaulted her shattered eardrums, something that would have been physical and emotional agony if she weren't already so numb, her hope having fled the moment she felt the walls coming crashing down. The last thing Raven saw before her consciousness left her was her best friend’s body, laying motionless and charred on her bedroom floor.  _

__

Raven woke hot and covered in sweat. Her nightmare replayed in her mind as she became more and more aware of her immediate surroundings. A quick glance around the room reminded her that she was in fact safe, none of it had been real. None of it had actually happened, though the knowledge that it could have was a dagger in her chest; but it was merely a manifestation of her past fears that lingered in the present, even after the threat had been removed. “It was all in your head” she said to herself, her throat was raw and strained and she realized she had been screaming in her sleep,  _ at least this time there was no one to startle awake _ . Before, Damian had been the one who would have been by her side at this moment. He had some kind of sixth sense when it came to her, he had always been there for her in the most difficult moments. She felt a pang in her chest as she remembered the contents of her dream, remembering that his care for her was the same trait that would have gotten him killed in that scenario.  _ Damian is fine. He is alive and well in Gotham. _

_ He’s the only one though, isn't he? _

_ Oh for fucks sake. _

_ Everyone else is still dead. _

_ If you had been stronger they wouldn’t be. _

_ Can we not do this right now? _

She pushed herself up and turned to the clock on the nightstand. 4:26. That was about 2 hours from when she had last checked the time. Raven had made the decision to not go out the night before, reasoning that she should have a night in for once; read a book, drink some tea, meditate, try to do things the way the old Raven did. Maybe it would make her feel better. She had just learned that sleep is much more difficult without any assistance from a few cocktails.  _ Fuck it.  _

...63...

64...

65...

66...

...67.

Ravn grabbed the last beer from the fridge and ran herself a cold bath.  _ Self care _ she laughed to herself as she picked a pill from the counter, crushed it between her molars, and washed the bitter powder down with her drink. She sat naked on the cold bathroom tiles and watched as the tub filled with water, blinking slowly as her mid-night snack absorbed. It makes her mind quiet. Though the silence in the tower is deafening, it beats the sounds of her mind bombarding her at all hours, easier to face painful things when numb. Even asleep, she is unable to find peace; it was worse when she was asleep, her fears amplified by the vulnerable state of her mind.  _ Father had a point,  _ She thought,  _ I am weakened by human things: sleep, fear, pain, emotion. He never said that. But dream dad did, and who’s to differentiate between the two. Both have been in my head. Both know my fears. Both know my weakness. _

Raven lowered herself into the bath slowly, determined to cool her body temperature. Though more mild than in the southern parts of the state, summers in Jump City were unreasonably hot. That combined with the poor functionality of the tower in its current state, made cold baths or showers one of the only ways to cool down. She the goosebumps rise on her legs and she diligently traced them with the tips of her fingers. Absently, Raven wondered why humans got goosebumps, she recalled learning something about them being one of those bodily processes that became obsolete through human evolution,  _ why do you get goosebumps from sounds or emotions then?  _ She added it to her mental list of things she wanted to look up but would inevitably forget. 

She gazed at the wet spots on the walls and ceiling, and looked among them finding faces and animals; there was a giraffe, a ballerina, and various birds they seemed to be looking down on her and they provided comfort as she tried to calm herself from the pressure that the nightmare left in her chest. Silent companions. But what an odd assortment of individuals. Maybe they appeared there for a reason, magic works in mysterious ways, and Raven is no stranger to it. Inconsequential things can be informative, but are too often overlooked. These figures could be one of those signs that once noticed, one would be a fool for not investigating further.  _ Maybe it’s kind of like tea leaf or cloud reading  _ she mused, tilting her head to the side,  _ but what would these mean if they were leaves or clouds?  _ She stood quickly and without warning, bracing the soap shelf to keep from slipping. She darted from the bathroom and bounded across the tower to the south wing, where ‘her room’ was. Raven stood before the bookshelf searching as the slightest sliver of light peaked over the horizon. The cold water dripped from her hair and down her back. She found her mark  _ Omens, Oracles, and the Goat,  _ a magical text recommended to her by Zatanna a few years back.  _ Before she died _ . Raven sprinted back to Damian’s bath, leaving wet footprints scattered from one end of the tower to the other. Standing in the still-full tub; Raven flipped through the book to the Animals section and turned her attention back to the stains. They were different now, warped, unrecognizable.  _ Where have you gone off to? _

_ They left. _

She narrowed her eyes bitterly and stepped out of the tub. _Why does it matter what the stains were shaped like. No, they were trying to tell you something. Something important._ She ran to the bedroom and dropped to the floor, book gripped against her chest. _You’ve got to figure it out. It's a message of some kind, some kind of guidance._ Heaven knew she needed some guidance in her life right now. Maybe she could go back to her roots, magic, and find some answers. Find a path. If there was anyone who could decipher messages, it would be Raven.

Levitating a paper and pen to her side, she threw the book cover open and began from the first page, taking extensive notes on everything she read.  _ What were the stains?  _ Raven tried to remember, she had gotten so caught up in the possibility of finding some kind of sign, some meaning, that the figures had fled from her memory.  _ No matter,  _ Raven thought,  _ If there had been a missed message here, then something will appear again. The universe will make its signs known if they are important. _ In preparation for the signs coming her way, Raven spent the next 5 hours delving into her research, reading the whole text front to back, and accumulated ten pages of notes, she will be prepared. Next time she will not miss the message.

* * *

4 Weeks

Damian and Jason sat alone with their legs dangling off the side of an apartment building in downtown Gotham. The two of them had offered to take up patrol that night which elicited a questioning look from Bruce, who accepted their offer nonetheless. The night had been quiet, much like the previous few. The stillness was eerie and made the masked crime fighters feel even more on edge, unwilling to be lulled into any false sense of security. The two men had sat in silence, a pro that Damian had added to the list of reasons it had been a good reason to take Todd up on his offer. The man knew and appreciated the importance of silence. But they were both aware that at some point tonight, there were things that they needed to discuss. 

Jason laid back onto the gravel of the rooftop, pulling out another cigarette for himself and offering one to his adoptive brother; who despite his better judgement, had been accepting them all evening. They both stared up at the stars for a while, causing Damian’s thoughts to drift to his last trip off-world. In the end it had been so simple, Cyborg had had the capability of ending it all on his own, had he been graced with his own autonomy. Knowledge that Damian was sure would have plagued Victor for the rest of his life had he survived, and for Victor’s sake, Damian believed accepting death had been his best option. There is a divine simplicity in self sacrifice. One’s last act being for the sake of others, their life in exchange for another’s. Its a noble transaction, one that would let your soul rest in a dignified manner. No regrets or ‘what ifs’ wondering if you could have done more, because there simply was not anything else that you had left to give. You gave your task everything you had. That's the death that Dick had chosen, selfless and noble, he departed existence with a free soul and clear conscience. 

Jason took a drag and sat back up, eyes still focused on the horizon. “Do you know what you’re going to tell Bruce?” he asked, breaking apart the blissful silence. 

“I don’t see a reason why I have to tell him anything. I’m an adult. Who is he to stop me?” Damian stated flatly. “Besides, I'm sure he has enough trackers hidden on me to be assured of my whereabouts.” 

“I’m not sure the big bat would be a huge fan of another Robin running off to the Middle East unannounced.” he smirked. “And as you said, he can’t stop you.”

“I’ll let him know I’m leaving.” Damian promised. He was beginning to resent the role that Todd seemed to be taking in Dick’s absence. 

The two sat back on their perch, scanning the streets before moving a few buildings over, scanning again, moving again, and so on. The night was quiet, and Damian did indeed miss the action of the old days in Gotham running through the streets alongside his father. Jump City had been another story altogether, it wasn’t so much crime fighting there as it was simply living and learning. Something that Damian didn’t realize that he enjoyed until it was no longer a part of his life. He found an appreciation for the Titan’s way of life, intense training and occasional missions. Their work assisting the Justice League, either in tandem or in their stead, had been below his pay grade, however he found that working as a team made things feel differently, perhaps even fun. He would never admit that to anyone, and ‘fun’ is a loose description, he didn't hate it, he looked forward to the big wins that were only possible with a group, a powered group, as opposed to two biologically ‘average’ humans. They had found a groove, the Titans and he, their team meshed well and they were able to accomplish much more than he and Batman were able to accomplish on their own. It didn’t hurt that he had miraculously made friends along the way, an odd notion and something that would probably sicken thirteen year old Damian. It had been a turn in his life that he could not have foreseen, and one that he had not been open to. But through the years as he grew older and more open minded, he found that there was importance in connections with other people.

The loss of the Titans had been difficult for Damian to reconcile with on top of the loss of his brother and Raven. It was much easier to deal with once he was away, and back at the League of Assassins. Removed from the reality of it all. But in the end that was revealed to be a selfish endeavor. But what else was he expected to do in that moment? His father, gone; his team, gone; his brother, gone; his home, gone. Where else could he have turned. There was nothing else left for him, that he knew at the time.

The sky began to lighten and the two knew it was nearing time for their departure, and silently they rode their bikes back to the manor. They disembarked quietly, and silently made for their respective quarters to retrieve the things they had previously packed.

“We’ll get you some new clothes.” Todd had promised as Damian retold his passive aggressive battle with Alfred and the training gear. So Damian had packed light, as he always did. He had a few sets of clothes and various weapons: his sword, a backup sword, two dozen batarangs, a handful of smoke grenades, and some miscellaneous tools; there was no use in bringing anything else. 

Damian entered his room silently, he retrieved his duffle bag and headed towards the door before remembering the conversation and promise he had made to Todd. “Damnit” he said to himself as he dropped the duffle beside him and made to the desk, pulling a stationary pad and pen out of the drawer.  _ Keep it brief. _ He reminded himself.  _ Give them no room to question my decisions.  _

_ “Gone on a cover mission.  _

_ Don’t try to contact me. _

_ Radio silence. _

_ D.W.” _

He sealed the note in an envelope marked “Father,” and took one last glimpse of his room.  _ You’ve left so many times before, no need to get all sentimental.  _ But he knew that this time was different, because his father was here, and was not the one sending him away. If he hadn’t spent the last two years in Nanda Parbat, he could make some excuse to himself about how this was his first time leaving on his own, of his own volition, making decisions for himself and his loyalties as a man. But he knew that this wasn’t the case. There were so many reasons for him to accompany Todd in Bialya, but something felt off, and he couldn’t quite place it.

__

By the time their flight took off, Damian’s trepidation had worn off and was replaced with stoic preparation for the coming mission. The two flew private, perks of having a billionaire father bankrolling excursions such as this. “So, now I suppose now you will give me the details of this mission we’re on?”

“Truth is, kid, I don’t have many.” Jason admitted, shaking his head slightly.

Damian sat forward and placed his forearms on the table. “What do you mean you don’t have many?” Damian said incredulously. “And don't call me ‘kid.’”

“We will be meeting with an informant shortly after we arrive.” Jason explained. He leaned back in his seat and hooked his hands behind his head. “Before you ask, yes, we can trust the informant. Original intel is from Oracle.”

Attempting to neither betray his worry nor relief, Damian carried on. “So what is it that she told you then?” 

At this, Jason sat back up and leaned into the table to come face to face with Damian, only looking down to pull a small file from his backpack. “Women being taken from markets, sometimes their homes when their husbands leave for the re-building.” he paused, “This kind of thing can be very... jarring. It’s heavy shit.” 

“So what’s the plan then?”

“I don’t know quite yet. We will need to get more information once we arrive in Alegab and plan according to that.” Jason said, stone faced. Todd was serious in a way that Damian didn’t think he had ever seen before. This was the first time he had seen Todd truly at work, he was deadly focused on his task and serious about the work he was doing. Somehow Damian had assumed that Todd trapezed the world with the same cadence he brought back with him to Gotham. The way his father talked about Todd and his Red Hood work, Damian had gotten the sense that he was sloppy, and haphazard. But from these few moments, he could tell that that was not the case at all, Todd was serious about what he was doing, he cared about his missions, and they were no joke. “I do have a sense of how things might pan out.”

“Well?”

“The elite in Bialya are less that savory. White collar criminals, they hide their illegal enterprises behind aristocratic titles, money, and multinational corporations. Bialya is a corrupt authoritarian state dictated by the ruling class, and nearly all of the crime comes from the top.”

“So what? Do you want us to just go in there and completely overthrow their government?” Damian scoffed.

“Not exactly.” Jason sighed. “While in the long run, that would probably be best, we can't leave the people without a governing body. Not now at least, not while they undergo much needed restoration from the war.”

“But?”

“We need to learn more. Once we have more information, we can formulate a concrete plan, until then we just have to be patient. This is not going to be a full frontal mission, we can't just run in with guns blazing and take every scumbag out. This needs to be methodical and precise.”

Damian nodded and leaned back into his seat. He was out of his realm on this one, he admitted to himself. His past missions were cherry picked for him and the Titans by Dick, Bruce, or The League, and nearly all of the information they needed had been provided or they were given a plan for gathering information. Going in on an assignment blind was new and intriguing, and for once he felt like he would actually get a say in formulating a plan, unlike with his father. Though this was Todd’s mission, he was promised that they were truly going to be partners here, equals, Damian no longer a sidekick or a part of a set. 

There was also the aspect of the type of mission this was. With all the heavy hitters in the Titans, their usual mission included a lot of actual fighting, but this was an entirely different field of hero work, and on a much larger scale than he had first realized. They weren’t dealing with metas, or monsters, or supervillains; they were dealing with a whole new brand of enemy. One Damian had yet to face. 

“They have a lot of technology.” Jason continued. “We will need to cut out communication outside of Bialya and Quraq. We have burners for show and communication with the organizations themselves, if need be, but long distance signals can be intercepted. You will have to communicate only with me and only with your pager.”

Damian let out a short laugh. “That's what I left in the note to my father, ‘Don’t try to contact me. Radio silence.’” 

Jason raised his eyebrow, “You left a note?” He stared at Damian shocked. “You really just left a note? Did you tell him where you were going? That you were going with me?”

Damian looked away. He hadn’t thought that his father would have told him no or try to stop him, but he still couldn’t bring himself to tell him face to face. It had been obvious that his father had been a bit more… protective… maybe... since their return from Apokolips. Not overbearing, but he was more attentive to his son. Perhaps it was just the fact that they truthfully had not been around each other much since Damian had joined the Titans. But Damian knew that it had to do with Apokolips, his father’s imprisonment and his brief death. It wasn’t completely out of character for his father to watch over him, but unlike in the past, there seemed to be something else in it than his wanting to keep Damian from going murder crazy. Something told Damian that telling his father that he was leaving, would be much harder on the both of them now than it would have before. The note had been the easiest way, short and to the point. No room for argument or questions. 

“I told him I was going on a cover mission and that he would not be able to contact me.” Damian shrugged, “There is nothing else to it than that.”

Jason hummed, there was obviously more he wanted to say, but wisely kept it too himself. 

“So how will we meet with this informant?” Damian asked, picking up his drink and took a sip as he leaned back into his seat. Feigning nonchalance as he changed the subject. They didn't need to go down this line of questioning again, he knows where it ends.

“There should be a note hidden by our safehouse when we get there.”

“Gordon trusts this person that much?” if there was one thing that he knew from a young age, and all of the members of the bat-clan were aware of, is that you can’t trust anyone outside of your teammates. Damian was taught a painful lesson with the Titans that sometimes you can't even trust your own teammates. Safehouses were very secret, and were need to know unless the mission was your own, especially when you’re trying to go unnoticed.

“No.” Jason answered flatly, “But we have other allies in and around Bialya who she does trust, they’re helping to set up this meeting.”

Damian squinted his eyes at his adoptive brother, “Is this not one of those situations where the less people involved the better?” Damian questioned.

“They’re good about not asking questions. There is a drop zone, our friend never saw the informant, but they did read the letter, that way someone will know where we are if something goes wrong.”

“Whole lotta good that will do” Damian huffed. “How do you know we can trust them then?”

Refusing to get in that fight, Jason opted to ignore his adoptive brother’s grievances. “You wanted to take this mission. It's not too late to back out, kid.”

Damian shot him an annoyed look, and Jason just threw his hands up. They both became silent and the conversation seemed to be at a close, before Damian spoke up again. “So just to get this straight, we are dropping into a hostile military state blindly with no plan?” 

Jason just shrugged and moved across the cabin to one of the more conventional airplane seats. “That's the gist of it.” he reclined and rested his hands behind his head. “Wake me when we get there. 

* * *

5 Weeks

The Titans’ living area was… cleaner. It had been a week since Raven had finally motivated herself to gather and dispose of the debris from the damaged walls. It was far from spotless, there was still dust and small chunks of cement coating the tile. She had a difficult time deciding what to do with the furniture and had been putting it off for weeks. Raven knew that none of it was realistically salvageable, the wood was shredded, the glass shattered, fabric and stuffing torn and missing. All of it needed to go. 

This was a much simpler job for her than it would be for practically anyone else, all she had to do was open up portals and send everything off into a vacant planetary body or separate dimension. Simple, easy, and quick. She held out her left arm and with a deep breath she opened a large portal in the center of the room, this one would drop the belongings on a small moon of an uninhabitable planet in a random dimension, the first location she was able to find. With her right arm, Raven slowly guided each part of the tattered sectional through the portal. Once they were though she dropped her holds and bent over herself with her hands on her knees, taking short breaths. She had not been able to fully perform her magic in over two years and had definitely lost her touch. Taking a deep breath, she stood to her full height and opened the portal once more. 

She made quick work of the remaining furniture and was left standing in a dark empty room. Raven turned to the kitchen, its shelves and counters were the only things that had remained relatively undamaged in the attack, save for a few chips in the marble countertops. Somberly, she walked over and hoisted herself onto the island to stare back at the room. Sitting cross legged, Raven watched as the wind rustled the plastic sheeting, the sound of it now echoing further off of the walls, the noise no longer stifled by the things that stood in their way. She could almost imagine the soundwaves traveling back and forth as they tunneled into her ears. She felt them vibrate against her skin. So loud. Too loud. She nearly flew as she jumped down from the counter and bounded across the room. Viciously, she tore away tarps and threw them across the room and the sound vanished. Raven peaked her head out and stared at the beach below, watching the violent water thrashing against the peaceful sand, but the sounds were muddled with the faint crinkling coming from behind her. Like a bullet, she ran through the tower, tearing each and every sheet from the walls, discarding them onto the ground, one after another, in every room. 

The rustling ended, only to be replaced by the harsh whistling of the hot wind from the outside rushing through the halls, forming the dust into thin grey clouds that danced back and forth. Raven stood panting in the bare center of the once comforting and lively living space, the room where all of the people she cared about would once gather, smiling and laughing. Sitting on that sectional, or around the dinner table. Conner would leave his drinks on the end table and Raven would scold him for not using a coaster because he was leaving rings of sticky sugary liquid behind that she knew she would have to scrub off because it's not like he was going to do it himself. Gar and Jaime would sit on the sofas and yell at each other over a game for hours on end which was so annoying that the rest of them had taken to spending their off time sitting together in the training room. On the couch they would have their weekly movie night, and everyone would groan and complain whenever it was Kori’s turn to pick a movie, they would always have to sit through another Disney film that they all secretly enjoyed. So much of their time had been spent in this room, and there were memories, happy memories, that had been carved into the cushions and stained on the rug. 

Memories she had just thrown away, that she threw away just to ease her mind, to help her forget. She got rid of the painful reminders of the happy times she once had, and the people she had them with. How selfish is it to try to erase the remaining pieces of her friends, like they meant nothing. No one would remember the Titans, too focused on the grandiosity of the Justice League. Raven was all that was left now. She had thrown away what was here before, because it was too painful for her to think about them. They deserved to be remembered, a person only has their legacy. She is so very selfish.

The whistling continued to assault Raven’s ears. She suddenly became all too aware of the hot humid air that surrounded her, sunk into her skin, and made her limbs feel sluggish and heavy. Running back into Damian’s room, she clawed her phone from the dresser. Desperate for some reassurance. A familiar voice. No calls, no texts. She typed a frantic message.

“Damian?”

She needed to talk to him. Make sure he remembered, he was the only person other than her who would remember everyone as she had. 

“Are you there?”

“I need to talk to you”

“Please”

Had he forgotten her too. Swept her memory away just like she had the others? Was it just as painful for him to remember her as it was for her to remember the rest of the Titans? Had he even wanted to remember her?

_ Of course he has forgotten about you. _

_ He doesn’t want to think about you. Or talk to you. _

_ You were a mistake to him.  _

She dialed his number, desperate to hear his voice, to confirm that he was there, that he remembered her. 

“The number you are trying to reach is unavailable, at the tone please record your message. When you are finished recording, hang up or press one for more options.”  _ Beep _

“Damian. I need to talk to you.”

She dialed again.

_ Beep. _

“Damian, please pick up.”

She dialed again

_ Beep. _

“Please, Damian. I need to hear from you.”

She dialed again and again and again.  _ Beep. Beep. Beep. _

_ Of course he isn’t picking up.  _

_ You’re obsessive  _

_ Annoying _

The heat expanded her body, her flesh inflating, filling the room that was on its own becoming smaller and smaller. She could feel the pricking sting of sweat being extruded through her skin, causing the swirling dust to stick to her damp skin. And the wind howled, and howled. It taunted her. The way it moved on through the tower, going about its way freely in the wake of the discarded memories of her friends. A siren punishing her. It slithered up her back like a steel snake and bit her harshly at the base of her skull, causing her to flinch her head back and her shoulders tightly upwards. 

_ Selfish. _

_ Tarnishing their remains like that. _

_ They deserve more. You far less. _

She couldn't breath. She gulped at the thin air as the wind stole it back from her lungs. Raven let out a dry choked sob. She was dying. Her heart was beating like a hummingbird, and she was convinced that it would give out any minute. And it was so so so hot. Her clothes stuck to her skin uncomfortably, reminding her of how trapped she felt in her own body, with her skin clinging tight onto her muscles and bones, restricting their movements. She wanted to pull it from herself. 

Thrashing, she ripped off her shirt and awkwardly pulled her pants down her legs, leaving herself in nothing but a thin pair of panties. But still the ick seeped into her bones. She turned her head to the bathroom. She needed to cool down. She needed the peace.  _ No. Now. it will take too long to fill the bath and by then it will be too late for you. _

Raven hastily stumbled to her feet before becoming airborne. Determined, she fought against the wind as she flew back to the common room, stopping to hover at the edge of the gaping ‘window.’ She stared fiercely into the darkness of the bay, cold and refreshing. Its inky waters promised relief from the weight that pressed in on her chest. She soared through the window, intent on her destination. She flew out and then down, honing in on her target. The hot wind turned brisk as it lashed against her hurtling body, causing her skin to sting. It didn't matter. She let herself fall, slowing her acceleration just enough as to not harm herself upon entry, and watched as the water approached.

_ Smack.  _ And deep into the freezing bay she dove.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: mild gore  
> TW: implied non-con & forced sex work (background.)  
> Possible suicide TW (Not intended when writing, but figured I should add it to be safe.)
> 
> I survive off of comments so feel free to drop one, even to tell me that you hate it here.


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